If Only
by Miss Pookamonga
Summary: AU for Season 5. If only love didn't require sacrifice. If only she hadn't told him to go. If only he hadn't listened...then maybe she wouldn't have suffered, and maybe he wouldn't feel so guilty... S/R fic. UPDATED!
1. Prologue: Tattered Valentine

_Dear Readers,_

_Based on the Season 5 spoilers I've read, my speculation is that Sam is going to get captured by Michael the wraith in the first episode, "Search and Rescue". So this is basically my musing on how a certain someone feels about that...and of course it had to relate to Valentine's day. I could've written fluff, but for some reason angst is just so much easier for me. Gah!_

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P aka Mimzy _

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**Prologue: Tattered Valentine**

He'd always hated this holiday.

And the present circumstances weren't doing anything to improve his feelings.

Valentine's Day. The terrible excuse for card and candy companies to rake a disgusting amount of revenue off people's emotional naïveté. And the day when every social outcast was reduced to nothing more than an invisible puddle of salty tears. He'd spent too many days drowning in that puddle, helplessly watching the chosen elite of his world get pampered and showered with false affection decorated in pink and red glittering hearts. It was like constantly being Charlie Brown stupidly searching in that empty mailbox of his for a valentine, knowing full-well that none was ever going to come. Unless it was a recycled valentine, of course, but if he'd gotten even one of those, he knew he would've spat on it and thrown it in the garbage in a heartbeat.

So, naturally, Rodney had been conditioned to detest Valentine's' Day. While everyone around him—even _Ronon_ for goodness' sake—made a huge fuss about roses and chocolates and smooching and whatnot, he preferred to curl up in the fetal position on his bed and promptly wipe any memory of the upcoming day of doom from his mind.

Except this year, doing that was going to be exceptionally difficult.

It wasn't like he had been expected to get over it quickly, but no one—not even he—had anticipated that he was going to be stuck in this ever-sinking tar pit of constant guilt and despair for as long as he had. The pain, like the black sticky stuff itself, just refused to wash away. You could dip it into a pool of the water of comforting words, scrub it endlessly with sympathy soap, but in the end, it still left a conspicuous stain...and the stench of it still lingered if you paid close attention.

He let the guilt ooze uncomfortably over him as he lay curled up, helpless, underneath the mildly soothing warmth of the covers. There was the guilt of having been responsible for what had happened to her. There was the guilt of not having been able to figure out a way to rescue her. There was the guilt of having felt worse about losing her than he had felt about Elizabeth. There was the guilt of simply being too afraid to shed his mask to tell her how he had really felt. How he _still _felt. Oh, god, it was unbearable. He couldn't shake any of this from his mind, from his soul—he could almost physically feel himself sinking into that bubbling black pit, could feel himself steadily growing weaker until he refused to even try to pull himself out of it. But he deserved it anyway, didn't he? After all, it was all his fault.

If only he hadn't had been stupid enough to get captured by Michael, then _she _wouldn't have gone out to try and rescue him. If only he hadn't been stupid enough to fall madly in love with her, then he wouldn't have had to constantly be plagued with the guilt of feeling more ripped apart by her loss than he had been by Elizabeth's. If only he hadn't been stupid enough to dream that something could come between them, that somehow there had been something more than competitive friendship, that somehow there had been an extra glimmer in her eyes when she looked at him that had never been there before.

But he had been stupid enough to allow all of those things, and for that, he would forever be cursed by agony. As if he wasn't cursed already...but now he'd never be able to close his eyes without constantly viewing the broken film reel of her face screaming at him to go, to get out before it was too late. He couldn't even try to think of her smiling or laughing or doing anything else without seeing the sheer sacrificial terror on her figure flash before his eyes. If only...

His self-deprecating thoughts collapsed into heavy sobs. He had hurt her beyond repair, and now she had probably already paid for it with her life. That was worse than viewing her from afar, wishing he had the courage to tell her he loved her. Or perhaps give her one of those pretty little pieces of paper with a pink heart traced on it. At least then, she had been there for him to pine over. Now he wasn't even sure she was alive. And dammit, it was all his fault.

If only...

His head was filled with too many of those. And that was all they would ever be. Fragments of dreams that would never come true, unfulfilled wishes, unhealed wounds.

If only he could turn back time.

But of course, it was far too late for that.


	2. In Dreams Awake

_Dear Readers,_

_Thanks for the lovely reviews! Due to the bunch of you who had the misconception that this was a multi-chapter story and not a oneshot, I changed my mind and decided to make it a multi-chap anyway. It won't be too long, I don't think, but I hope you enjoy anyway. Just a quick note: This chap will make no sense given the context of the previous one until the very end of the chap. So just read through it and I think you'll get it. Anyhoo, thanks again:D_

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA fan),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

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**_"Our truest life is when we are in dreams awake." --Henry David Thoreau_**

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**Chapter 1: "...In Dreams Awake"**

Sam huddled in the corner of the cave, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth to keep warm. It was terribly cold and uncomfortably damp in the godforsaken hell-hole they had gotten themselves into. Why was it that every time she went off-world with the team she always ended up getting trapped somewhere? Especially somewhere sealed off underground with a limited air supply and wavering under the constant threat of earthquake, cave-in, or collapse? It was almost as if she was cursed in that respect.

She rubbed her hands vigorously against her legs as he re-entered their "camp-out" chamber of the cave, tapping voraciously on the keys of his laptop. Sam looked up hopefully upon seeing him.

"Find anything, Rodney?"

Rodney sighed anxiously and shook his head, lines of worry etching their way across his face like a rapidly spreading disease. "No. I have absolutely no idea how far we are from the surface, nor have I been able to detect any possible exit routes. Something in this damn cave keeps messing with my laptop." His voice rose with an edge of desperation as he spoke each word. 

Sam heaved a sigh along with him as he sighed yet again. "Well, for now I think we should at least just try to keep warm," she suggested firmly, trying to remain calm. She knew Rodney well enough that letting her own anxiety show would only induce a panic attack in him, and that was about the worst thing that could happen to the both of them at that moment.

He wheeled on her furiously. "What! Are you crazy!" He cried, staring at Sam in incredulous shock at her statement. "We've got to figure out a way to get out of here, and fast...who knows what the hell is in this place...we could get attacked by some...creature...or-or-or lose oxygen...or be trapped under here forever until we either starve or freeze to death—" 

"Which is why we should stop wasting energy for the time being and try to keep warm," Sam reiterated, fiercely directing her gaze on Rodney. 

He opened his mouth to argue, but he looked at her face, reconsidered, and gave in surprisingly quickly. "You're probably right," he sighed heavily.

Sam scooted to the side as Rodney lowered himself to sit down next to her. He laid his laptop on the ground. "Did you happen to bring a blanket in your bag, by any chance?" Sam asked hopefully, shivering.

"As a matter of fact..." he began rummaging hastily through his backpack, "I think I actually did...ah! Here it is!"

Rodney gave a sharp tug and procured a large, thick (and rather itchy-looking) military blanket from his backpack and started unfolding it. 

"Oh, thank god," Sam remarked in relief, hurriedly helping Rodney unfold the blanket so they could drape its large expanse over themselves. Sam gratefully wrapped the material tightly around her body, reveling in its immediate warmth. She unconsciously snuggled closer to Rodney in attempt to generate more heat. Rodney himself did the same (but perhaps being a bit more aware of what he was doing), and by the end of the minute, the two of them were touching arms. 

It was then that Sam suddenly realized how close she had gotten to him, and a sudden wave of fear shot through her body. Or maybe not fear...maybe something else just as powerful, with an electricity that made every fiber of her being tingle tremendously. Whatever it was, she had no idea where it had come from, and that _did_ scare her, more than she wanted to admit. 

She thought, almost childishly, that she should probably scoot away a bit to calm her nerves. But then she abruptly realized something else as she felt the contact with his arm send electric tingles through her body. Rodney was incredibly warm.

She pressed a tiny bit closer and felt a soothing heat pass through her own arm. It sent more tingles through her body, but the kind one feels after walking inside a heated house after spending hours playing in the freezing snow. The two types of tingles intermingled, creating a thrilling sensation in her stomach, and for some reason, that made her want to snuggle even closer. 

_The cold must be messing with my brain, _she thought sarcastically to herself. Why else would she want to snuggle up with Rodney McKay of all people?

"Warm yet?" Rodney suddenly asked, his voice sounding unusually subdued given his near panic outburst just a few minutes earlier. Maybe he was reveling in the fact that he'd finally gotten an excuse to cuddle up with Sam Carter. Or maybe he was trying to woo her by sounding demure. Or both. 

The calmer tone in his voice prompted the spread of even more tingles. "Yeah," she answered, trying her best to control her voice so she sounded like her normal self. 

"I feel kind of...um...sleepy, y'know?" Rodney remarked, the "McKay" tone edging back into his voice. 

"Huh, me too," Sam chuckled.

There was a silence, awkward at first, but one that gradually grew more comforting as the seconds passed. At first they just sat there somewhat tensely, artfully avoiding each other's gaze. Sam could feel Rodney nervously twiddling his fingers next to her hand, and she couldn't help but smile to herself at the thought of him being jittery just because they were sharing a blanket. His thumb inadvertently brushed against her skin, and she felt the tingles intensify a notch. Without warning, a sudden compulsion dragged her hand forward, and before she knew what had happened, her hand was curled around his, and he was staring at her with a half-befuddled, half-enamored expression on his face. 

_I really must be ill or something, _Sam thought worriedly, before turning her head to look embarrassedly at Rodney. 

"You're really warm," she blurted out quickly in an attempt to save herself.

"Really?" he asked, his face suddenly beaming brightly in what appeared to be genuine delight.

"Uh...yeah," answered Sam a little uneasily, blushing. This was definitely the most awkward conversation she had had in a long time. 

"Oh." He suddenly grew calm again and turned away, oddly to Sam's disappointment. 

Another awkward silence.

Minutes...

...hours...

...days...

_Please _say _something_, Sam pleaded after what seemed like an infinite number of agonizingly quiet moments. As if cuddling under a blanket with Rodney McKay wasn't weird enough, now she had to endure spontaneous tingles _and_ a terribly heavy silence which was doing absolutely nothing to calm her nerves. 

As if he had read her mind, Rodney suddenly spoke up. "_You're_...um...really cold."

Sam immediately wished he hadn't spoken. The awkwardness was now flourishing in enormous leaps and bounds.

To her horror, he only continued, while she resisted the tempting urge to fidget and/or snap at him to keep his mouth shut. 

"Sorry."

Sam's eyes widened in surprise, and her head snapped toward him. "For what?" She immediately bit her lip afterward in an attempt to not betray the fact that she melted hopelessly every time he said "sorry" in that..."cute little Canadian way." 

"For getting you in this mess. You didn't have to come...but I made such a big deal about power sources and Ancient weapons and all that crap that you thought you had to—"

"I made the judgment on whether or not to come. Not you," she replied firmly.

He didn't relent. "Still! If I hadn't...and now...now w-w-we're stuck in this damned cave with no way out, having accomplished absolutely nothing we set out to do on this—"

"_Rodney_." 

He screeched to a stop mid-sentence and chanced a quick nervous glance at her. Seeing the concern weighing down every contour of his face and mournfully darkening his normally sparkling eyes twisted the tingles into a terrifyingly breathtaking dance. Suddenly, Sam realized how vulnerable and helpless he looked like that, how much he resembled a small and scared child, and she could swear she could feel her heart literally melting into a pool beneath her chest. 

It was then that she realized she was still holding his hand. And tighter now, even. 

_Oh, god, what's happening to me? _

Before she had time to properly consider the ramifications of that question, her face broke out into a wide, genuine smile that lit up every corner of her countenance, and she kissed him lightly on the cheek.

Rodney's jaw dropped.

She had to laugh at that. It was too much.

At first he sat there in shock and utter confusion, staring at her with his mouth gaping wide open and his eyes larger than what seemed humanly possible. Then, slowly, the edges of his lips began to curl into a gleeful smile until he was laughing along with her. 

They laughed for what seemed like hours until all their breath was stolen away, and Sam's stomach ached painfully from heaving up and down non-stop. She gulped air into her lungs as she tried to calm down, and she let her head collapse onto Rodney's shoulder. He, gasping for breath as well, turned his head to look at her and lay his chin against her hair.

"You're terribly cute when you're out of it," he whispered when he had finally caught enough air to speak.

" 'Out of it'? I'm not out of it," Sam replied indignantly.

"You kissed me on the cheek and you're holding my hand _and _your head is on my shoulder." He was beaming with genuine McKay-ness again. More unstoppable electric tingles.

"That doesn't mean I'm out of it," Sam argued hopelessly.

"What _does_ it mean then?" 

His voice suddenly dropped, and she felt him staring at her with an uncharacteristic air of tenderness. She moved her head against his shoulder so she was looking him straight in the eye and so that their foreheads were touching. 

"I have no idea," she whispered seriously. Honestly, she didn't.

To her surprise, he suddenly chuckled. "You're lying."

Sam glared at him. "I'm not lying."

"How can you have no idea? You know everything." Rodney smirked.

"Oh, so you're acknowledging my superior intelligence now?" Sam grinned smugly as Rodney's face abruptly fell.

"I—uh...I never said that!" 

"You implied it."

"Oh, _come on_!" 

"Admit it, Rodney, you can't win this."

"I—oh, _yes_ I...don't start that with me...I mean..." he trailed off. Sam giggled at the pathetic expression on his face.

"_You're _cute when you lose arguments," she whispered after a few moments.

Rodney beamed once more. "I am? I mean...of course..."

Sam rolled her eyes. Rodney leaned forward so his nose touched hers, his face softening again.

"You're so damn beautiful," he whispered, gazing dreamily into her eyes.

The tingles intensified to a deadly voltage as she felt his breath brush against her lips while he spoke. 

"What the hell am I doing?" she thought out loud, the exhilaration mounting by the second as they edged closer to each other.

"Looks like you're letting me do this—"

He kissed her.

Burning. Euphoria burning in her body's core, radiating its power in waves through every part of her. There was no possible explanation or description that could sum up the feeling of his lips moving against hers—so softly, so passionately slowly. She felt herself melting away, and she grabbed a hold of his neck as if that would stop her from falling into a spiral cyclone of repressed emotions. But of course, it was to no avail, because he continued to pull her into that blissful vortex until she was completely and totally immersed in it. His hands were everywhere, caressing her until she let go of every inhibition and leaned against his chest, kissing him harder. It felt so good—better than it was supposed to, better than she ever thought she would allow it to be...

It was almost too good to be true. 

Suddenly, she felt a jolt zap through her system—like a lightning bolt of electricity, but nothing like the electricity she had been feeling from Rodney's embrace. It was incredibly painful, so much so that she cried out in shock and snapped backwards, away from Rodney.

Rodney's face immediately twisted into one of terror and concern, and his hands instinctively tightened around Sam's waist. "What? What is it?"

"I—" 

She screamed. 

There was a searing pain driving its blade straight through her, splitting her head in two. She fell to the ground, wailing in agony as a blurred image of Rodney floated around her, anxiously trying to help her, revive her, comfort her...crying out her name. But with every cry, his voice drifted farther and farther away, his face blurred into darkness, and the pain only intensified until she heard a sickening crack and felt herself falling swiftly into a black void. 

Then, she felt a dragging force sucking her into a tornado of nothingness until she heard a _thud_ and she was no longer falling. For what seemed to be the longest moment, stretching into eternity, she heard nothing, saw nothing, felt nothing. A deep fear surged through her—a fear that could come for only one reason: she was probably dead. Dead and lost forever in this blackness devoid of everything, devoid of air, light, life...and...Rodney. 

Rodney.

_Rodney? Rodney? Where are you? Please don't leave me, can't you see that I really don't want you to..._

Her eyes snapped open.

As the muddled view above her gradually came into focus, she made out the shape of a face hovering over her. Her heart skipped a beat with the fervent hope that the face belonged to Rodney, but as the seconds passed and her vision cleared, her heart sank deep into her stomach with an overwhelming feeling of dread. 

It wasn't Rodney.

A low, hollow laugh emerged from the daunting figure looming above her as she recoiled in horror and flattened her prostrate form against the damp wall behind her. 

"Intriguing," it chuckled menacingly as it leaned over closer to Sam's terrified form. "Not what I had expected at all, Samantha Carter. I'm quite surprised." 

With that, it let out a loud, bellowing cackle and backed away, heels pounding on the ground like drums signaling a funeral march. 

Huddled helplessly in a corner, Sam Carter let out a tiny sob of despair. 

But the echoing pounding of its feet all but drowned out her cry. 


	3. In Her Eyes

_Dear Readers,_

_Thanks for your reviews! Here's the next chapter! I will warn you now, though, the future chaps will get pretty intense once I get into what actually has been happening to Sam, which is the cause for me upping the rating on this story. But hopefully, you'll still keep reading :-P_

_Happy Easter!_

_Best Regards from a Bookworm (and SGA McCarter fan!),_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

* * *

**Chapter 2: In Her Eyes**

Rodney snapped upright in bed, heaving rapidly in terror. The twisted dream images remained plastered on the walls of his mind—only, instead of remaining still and unmoving like photographs, they flashed constantly like an old, distorted film.

_Sam_.

He'd seen her.

No, it was more than that. He'd _been_ with her, or, at least, it had felt like that. The dream had been more than an elaborate emotional picture show. It had been more than living a nightmare. He had been standing there, on his own two feet, watching helplessly as she was tortured again and again until his ears were ready to split apart from enduring the sickening sound of her constant screams. It had been real. Everything—every cry for help, every plea for mercy, every tear of agony streaming down her gaunt face—he'd _seen _it with his own eyes, he had _heard_ her with his own ears. He knew it had been real because it hadn't felt surreal like any dream would have: he hadn't glided through a sequence of seemingly random events, feeling detached from everything around him. _He had been in that prison cell._ He knew because his ears were still ringing painfully with the reverberating echoes of her anguished shrieks.

It seemed like hours before he realized that he had finally stopped shaking in fright and was only shivering because of the cold sweat covering his tense body. He sat up in bed, rigid as stone, not thinking, not knowing what to do, until a sudden impulse caused him to slip out from under the covers and leave the room. He didn't even realize where he was going until he suddenly found himself at her door, shaking once again as the sweat of terror evaporated off his skin, regretfully not taking his anxiety and guilt with it.

He didn't even hear or feel himself knock. The next thing he knew, the door just slid open, and there she was, squinting at him tiredly in confusion and weariness. The minute his eyes settled upon her haggard face and sunken eyes hidden in a darkness that was more than physical, he instantly regretted coming there and was about to apologize profusely for bothering her and return to his room to brood over his...dare he say it..._visions_. But she beat him to the chase, and he was given no excuse but to explain his odd behavior.

"Rodney? Is everything all right?"

He was instantly struck by the broken, wispy quality of her voice, which was normally strong and unwavering, yet gentle all the same. This just sounded...like total helplessness. Despair. Pain beyond imaginable belief. Internal agony he couldn't explain, but very well understood, because he knew he was feeling it too.

"I—I—" he stopped, pangs of guilt for waking her at this hour stabbing him multiple times in the same spot. "I kind of...I mean...I need...not that I wanted to bother you...but...I...something happened..." Oh, hell, how was he supposed to explain this? "I had this...dream...and I thought—"

"Come in." She stepped aside.

The abrupt cutoff caught him off-guard, and for a moment he stood there in minor shock, staring into her quarters. But after a few seconds, he snapped into motion and walked inside, taking care to avoid her gaze after the door slid shut behind him and she beckoned for him to sit down on a red velvet cushion at the far end of the room. He slowly made his way to where she was, startled still by her instantaneous understanding of his problem. Well, she had had such things occur in her dreams before...it was likely that she sensed what was ailing him. Or perhaps she had seen what he had seen. Or maybe it was just a mutual, subconscious message passing between the two of them, a message perpetuated by their shared bond over the suffering of loss...

"I'm sorry," he suddenly blurted out as he awkwardly sat down atop a cushion. His eyes strayed to the clusters of candles lining the walls, which were illuminating them with a soft and welcomingly peaceful glow.

"It is all right," she answered in a much calmer voice than before. "You did not wake me. I just finished feeding Kenaan."

Rodney's throat tightened at the mention of her son. He glanced at the cradle by her bed, in which slept the tiny miracle child who was now the only living reminder of the man she had once loved. The boy who would never know his father.

"What is it that you wanted to speak to me about?"

For a moment, Rodney forgot completely why he was even awake. He suddenly felt out-of place, as if he was hovering between reality and a dream-world. A pang of fear shot through him, and for a split second he could not even remember who he was or where he was or why he was there. But the strange feeling faded away as quickly as it had come, and he turned toward the gentle Athosian for the first time since entering her room and spoke in a voice as broken and wispy as hers had been when he had first knocked on her door.

"A...a dream. Except...it wasn't a dream. It was—I can't believe I'm saying this—but I think I saw—"

"A vision of Sam."

His eyes finally met hers in surprise. "How did you know?"

"I remember acting similarly when I had visions of..." her voice broke a little "...Kenaan. Or, of what I thought was him."

Rodney sighed and nodded heavily, remembering Teyla's account of how her visions had really been Michael's way of infiltrating her consciousness and inciting her to walk straight into his trap. If only... No, he couldn't start on that train of thought again.

"The thing is...it felt so..._real. _As if I was standing right there, watching her—" Sam's screaming face suddenly jumped out from the recesses of his mind and drowned his words in tears that were beginning to well up in his eyes. He looked away embarrassedly and lifted his head up to try to stop them from spilling down his face.

Teyla reached out and squeezed his shoulder comfortingly. "There is no need to be ashamed, Rodney," she whispered, fully aware of Rodney's insecurity. "Sometimes the best way to deal with our pain is to show it."

Something about her tone of voice—or maybe it was the fact that he knew that she truly understood what he was going through—made Rodney lower his head and turn to look Teyla straight in the eye again. He blinked, and the floodgates burst open.

"Oh, god, Teyla, she's...she's... He's hurting her. I don't know how...all I know is that I saw her on the ground, screaming for help... I didn't see what he was doing to her or who else was there; it was just Sam screaming and screaming over and over and...oh god...I wanted to help her but I couldn't move, dammit! I tried, but...I...I-I-I..."

His words collapsed into waves of sobs as the broken film reel began rolling through his mind again. Scream after scream. Every desperate, unheard call for help. And he, just standing there, not being able to do anything...

Teyla instantly gathered the anguished man's head in her arms and laid it against her shoulder. She was shaking with shock and empathetic sorrow—she had never once seen Rodney show so much emotion over anyone or anything, and seeing him suddenly break down before her over the loss of this one woman made her realize, with a stab of painful remembrance of her own love for Kenaan, how much he truly loved Samantha Carter. The earth-shattering humanity of his vulnerability to the pains of love made her want to do everything within her power to help him rescue the one thing he had allowed his heart to bind himself to. She could do nothing to gain back the man she loved, but at least she could help a friend to be spared the indescribable agony she now felt every time she saw her son's face.

She stroked Rodney's back and uttered healing words in Athosian to him as she let him unleash his deluge of sorrow upon her. It took a very long while, but eventually the tears receded, and Rodney's breath grew steady again as he continued to rest his head against the inviting comfort of Teyla's shoulder. She allowed him to gulp in a few well-needed breaths of air before lifting his face upward and cupping it in her hands to force him to look straight at her as she spoke.

"There is still a chance that she can be rescued," Teyla said firmly, gripping Rodney's chin with renewed fervor.

"How?" he barely whispered. "For all we know, she's dead already. My...vision...could have been from the past."

"We do _not_ know that, Rodney. And until we do, we must keep the hope that she is still alive and waiting for us to find her."

"How will we know where, though?" Rodney sniffed.

"That is where I need your help," Teyla replied steadily, now clasping Rodney's cold, clammy hands in her warm, dry ones. "I know this will be difficult, but I need you to replay your vision in your mind for me."

"How will that help?" Rodney asked, easing back into his facade of overbearing skepticism.

"If I, as an outsider, can see your vision as you experience it, I may be able to pick up on something that you yourself may have missed because of your emotional attachment to the scene," explained Teyla calmly. "You may also be able to catch something that you did not see before."

Rodney sniffed again and nodded, trusting in Teyla's superior expertise on these kinds of things. He had never been one to dabble in the twisted world of telepathy and the subconscious, so he really couldn't give any input into the process of reviewing his dream-visions anyway.

"We may also be able to discern any clues as to whether this is an authentic vision or a trick that Michael is trying to play on you," continued Teyla gravely. "Now, I need you to close your eyes and do your best to think of the very beginning of your dream. Whatever you do, do _not _let go of my hands."

"All right." Rodney shut his eyes reluctantly.

He felt Teyla's strong hands tighten around his as he began sifting through the distorted film images in his mind, searching for the opening scene of his horrific nightmare. Much to his dismay, it didn't take long for him to find it, and once he did, he once again felt as if he had been plucked out from inside himself and roughly dropped into the dark and dingy prison cell. The only thing that felt different this time was the distinct presence of another, much stronger consciousness alongside him—obviously Teyla.

There were a few moments of eerie silence before he started hearing the echoes of screams bouncing off the black walls. The echoes grew steadily louder and louder until they were almost deafening, and all of a sudden, there Sam was before him, writhing in agony on the ground with a dark shadow looming over her. He squirmed inwardly and felt his real stomach churn as the dark shadow advanced closer to her body and Sam's screams grew increasingly more anguished and terrified. Fear and desperation suddenly seized him, and all memory of Teyla and the room around him vanished as he frantically pushed at himself to lift his feet, to move forward, to rush toward Sam and drag her screeching form away from whatever-it-was that was torturing her. But, he realized with horror that he was paralyzed, cemented to the spot, unable to move and doomed to stand and witness as the spirit of the only woman he had ever truly loved was relentlessly ripped to shreds by a presence he couldn't discern. He felt an anguished scream of his own rise in his throat as Sam's eyes snapped open and tears of terror flowed down her emaciated face.

Somewhere in the distance, he felt someone tugging at him, trying to grip him tightly, whispering fervently at him to _concentrate, concentrate, keep concentrating_. Concentrate on what? All he could see was his Love spiraling into oblivion, clutching at whatever was left of her sanity and of her life...

Then, something happened that hadn't happened before.

Sam's eyes locked with his.

Her gaze burned with so much pain and longing that he could almost physically feel fiery-hot hands grabbing him and refusing to let go. For a moment, he felt his heart stop, his breath cease, and all reality was only the Indescribable swimming in those watery sky-blue eyes scalding him with a power he couldn't seem to comprehend. The line between reality and vision, dream and consciousness was suddenly crossed, and he knew in that split second that Sam Carter was truly _looking _at him, trying to tell him something...

The someone in the far distance was shouting and shaking him vigorously, but he hardly felt it, because all he felt was _her _gaze boring into his...

_THUD._

Rodney hit the floor with amazing force, the air suddenly rushing into his lungs all at once and leaving him lightheaded. He blinked once, twice, and Teyla's worried face blurred into view. He was disoriented for a moment, forgetting once again where he was and why he was there...until he suddenly remembered Sam's blue eyes gazing desperately into his, and he jolted upright, gripping Teyla firmly by the shoulders.

"Rodney, what is it?!" Teyla asked anxiously, her eyes widening in fear as she futilely attempted to get Rodney to lie back down and relax.

"I...I...I..."

"What?" Teyla was trembling along with him now.

"I think I know where Sam is."


	4. The Secrets He Never Knew

_Dear Readers,_

_I know it's been forever since I updated, but I told you I was going to continue!! This story has now become officially AU for season 5, since obviously I don't think Sam's going to be captured. But why stop writing the story? Even though it's becoming angstier with every chapter. But no worries. I hope you enjoy, and don't forget to review! _

_Best regards from a Bookworm (and SGA McCarter fan who is GOING TO SHORE LEAVE!!)_

_Miss Pookamonga ;-P_

* * *

**_Previously..._**

_He felt Teyla's strong hands tighten around his as he began sifting through the distorted film images in his mind, searching for the opening scene of his horrific nightmare. Much to his dismay, it didn't take long for him to find it, and once he did, he once again felt as if he had been plucked out from inside himself and roughly dropped into the dark and dingy prison cell. The only thing that felt different this time was the distinct presence of another, much stronger consciousness alongside him—obviously Teyla._

_There were a few moments of eerie silence before he started hearing the echoes of screams bouncing off the black walls. The echoes grew steadily louder and louder until they were almost deafening, and all of a sudden, there Sam was before him, writhing in agony on the ground with a dark shadow looming over her. He squirmed inwardly and felt his real stomach churn as the dark shadow advanced closer to her body and Sam's screams grew increasingly more anguished and terrified. Fear and desperation suddenly seized him, and all memory of Teyla and the room around him vanished as he frantically pushed at himself to lift his feet, to move forward, to rush toward Sam and drag her screeching form away from whatever-it-was that was torturing her. But, he realized with horror that he was paralyzed, cemented to the spot, unable to move and doomed to stand and witness as the spirit of the only woman he had ever truly loved was relentlessly ripped to shreds by a presence he couldn't discern. He felt an anguished scream of his own rise in his throat as Sam's eyes snapped open and tears of terror flowed down her emaciated face._

_Somewhere in the distance, he felt someone tugging at him, trying to grip him tightly, whispering fervently at him to concentrate, concentrate, keep concentrating. Concentrate on what? All he could see was his Love spiraling into oblivion, clutching at whatever was left of her sanity and of her life..._

_Then, something happened that hadn't happened before._

_Sam's eyes locked with his._

_Her gaze burned with so much pain and longing that he could almost physically feel fiery-hot hands grabbing him and refusing to let go. For a moment, he felt his heart stop, his breath cease, and all reality was only the Indescribable swimming in those watery sky-blue eyes scalding him with a power he couldn't seem to comprehend. The line between reality and vision, dream and consciousness was suddenly crossed, and he knew in that split second that Sam Carter was truly looking at him, trying to tell him something..._

_The someone in the far distance was shouting and shaking him vigorously, but he hardly felt it, because all he felt was her gaze boring into his..._

_THUD._

_Rodney hit the floor with amazing force, the air suddenly rushing into his lungs all at once and leaving him lightheaded. He blinked once, twice, and Teyla's worried face blurred into view. He was disoriented for a moment, forgetting once again where he was and why he was there...until he suddenly remembered Sam's blue eyes gazing desperately into his, and he jolted upright, gripping Teyla firmly by the shoulders._

_"Rodney, what is it?!" Teyla asked anxiously, her eyes widening in fear as she futilely attempted to get Rodney to lie back down and relax._

_"I...I...I..."_

_"What?" Teyla was trembling along with him now._

_"I think I know where Sam is."_

* * *

For Ellymelly--HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

* * *

**Chapter 3: The Secrets He Never Knew**

She had seen him.

Seen him standing there, helpless and unable to help her, and part of her had known, despite her indescribable suffering, that she had had to ease his. It had seemed only like a dream, but she had somehow felt that he was there with her in her cell, aching to free her but powerless to do so. She had needed to tell him that she could still be saved, that she was still alive, that he still had something to live for. But she had also needed to plea for her life, to beg him to burst out of his cocoon of guilt and flee to her rescue. It was the only way either of them could ever be at peace again.

She hadn't known how it had happened. She had squeezed her eyes shut, desperately trying to block out the excruciating pain, and all of a sudden, he had appeared there just a few feet away from her. He had stood there frozen in shock and horror, his body racking with uncontrollable sobs as he had attempted several times to move towards her, but to no avail. She had screamed louder and louder, her mouth trying to form his name, trying to catch his attention. And then...suddenly, she had felt her head turn, and her eyes had locked with his, and everything had dissipated into the air. Silence. A deadweight silence penetrating the space between them, words being spoken between their gazes without voices, knives diving themselves into each other's eyes. And then it had all faded to black.

She had just awoken, feeling nauseatingly dizzy, and she had an all-too familiar throbbing pain near her legs. Groggily, she tried to shift her body over into a more comfortable position, but she cried out in agony as she felt another pain stab her sharply in her side, and she reluctantly rolled back over. Woozily, she peered down at her abdomen, and she nearly screamed in horror when she saw the blood.

It was everywhere, glistening sickeningly on the fabric of her ripped shirt, plastering itself to her bare skin, leaving trails of dried-up rivers and pools on the cold floor. She felt the pain shoot through the core of her body like lightning, searing every nerve and causing her head to feel as if it would split open at any second. Groaning in anguish, she slowly moved her hand towards her stomach to try to find the wound, but the moment her fingertips met flesh, she cried out as the pain zapped her like an electric shock, making her jerk her hand away.

How long had she been lying here, unconscious, her life bleeding away by the minute? How long did she even have to live?

_I will not cry_, she resolvedly told herself. _I've done too much of that. I can't waste any more energy. _

But the pain was too much. And the minute she closed her eyes to try to erase it from her mind, all she saw was Rodney's face drenched in tears, crying for her.

With every sob, the pains in her side and near her legs throbbed even harder and grew increasingly stronger. Every heave felt like a sword running through her, every gasp for air felt like a bullet shattering her insides. She couldn't breathe, but she couldn't stop crying, crying for the woman she once was who now lay broken, bruised, and battered on a prison cell floor of an alien's ship, a mere shell of who she used to be. Crying for the ones she had willingly left behind to save a mother and her child, to save the galaxy yet again. Crying for the one whose love she had denied for so long but only now just realized she needed to survive.

True, he had been a pain in the ass to begin with, and she hadn't really missed him at all when he had been "exiled" to Russia. But the minute he had left for Atlantis that one day, she had suddenly missed him, no matter how hard she had tried to deny and repress that longing. Something about how his lips always turned upward in that cocky grin of his, or how he always had a sarcastic comeback for every brilliant idea of hers had been alluring. Maybe it was because she had somehow always seen in his eyes a glint of something more hiding behind a wall he had so carefully constructed to hide himself from the rest of the world. The explorer in her had been curious, curious to uncover the man who lived in a shell, who kept on concealing himself from her and everyone else for a reason she didn't understand. Even when she had felt that she couldn't stand his presence any longer, some part of him had broken through that shell unexpectedly and had warmed her heart, inciting her to look into him further and find _that _man, the one who didn't want to be seen. Somehow, as the years had passed, he had slowly begun to emerge from his cocoon, blossoming into the man she had so diligently pondered over, the man who she somehow knew lived inside but had almost never seen. And she had suddenly begun to realize, as she had spent every waking day on Atlantis with him, that that diamond in the rough was the man she had, after searching endlessly to find what lay beneath...that _that_ was the man she had inadvertently fallen in love with.

If only she had been brave enough to tell him.

Atlantis had changed him. And it had changed her. And it had changed the way they looked at each other. Whether they had noticed it or not, they had grown closer, and the bond that had been forged between them was too powerful now to be broken or to be denied. But now it was too late. Now he would never know that she knew that he hadn't just fancied her, but had loved her. Now he would never know that she didn't hate him, didn't just think of him as a colleague and friend, but loved him back.

_Rodney, I'm so sorry_, she thought in anguish, remembering all the times she had passed off his flirtatious behavior as just that and nothing more. She could see it now; he truly had loved her, but had never known how to show it. And she realized that now because she knew that she was just as inept at showing her love for certain people.

Her troubled thoughts were suddenly interrupted by that horrifying sound of drumming footsteps pounding their way to her cell. Instinctively, her stomach clenched and her mind shut down all thought processes, guarding itself from another painful intrusion. She balled up her hands into fists and tried to breathe easily despite the searing ache in her side. He was _not_ going to hurt her anymore; she wasn't going to let him. She had fought relentlessly for weeks, and he had made her crumble to the ground in despair time and time again, but as long as her name was Samantha Carter, she wasn't going to give in to a man who was bent on destroying every living thing that stood in his way.

"Ah. I see you're awake. Did your last visitor treat you well?"

Sam rounded on him, shooting daggers with her icy glare. "Go to hell," she spat vehemently.

The wraith hybrid only let out a vicious cackle that echoed off the walls of the cell and into Sam's pained ears. "I believe I've already reached beyond that low," he chuckled menacingly. "Which is fortunate for me, since I've already achieved so much in my plan."

"You don't have the child," hissed Sam fiercely, part of her swelling in pride despite her agonizing pain. "And without him you can't win."

Michael's face suddenly tightened at Sam's statement, and his tone grew from mocking to chillingly threatening. "I _will_ have him," he whispered maliciously, his lips curling in fury and obsession. "You can't stop me. I know he's coming for you. I won't need for you to tell me where Atlantis is now."

Sam's breath immediately caught in her throat.

Something in her face must have betrayed her fear and surprise, for Michael chuckled again, this time more loudly and ominously. "Yes, of course I know how you feel about him. And I know what you did last night. Do you underestimate my ability to probe your mind whenever I so wish?"

Sam gritted her teeth, biting back the fresh wave of tears that threatened to break past their threshold.

Michael's lips twisted into a satisfied grin as he saw the visible effect of his words on his victim. No, she wouldn't last much longer, although he did somewhat admire her untamable strength.

"You were a fool to think you could save them," he said, smiling in monstrous glee. "You are more vulnerable than you think you are. It was quite easy to uncover your hidden emotions."

Sam inwardly cursed him.

"All this endless torture—it isn't for nothing, you know. I knew you might be too resolved to tell me anything about Atlantis. But as for inadvertently betraying your feelings...that was another matter. If I couldn't get you to tell me Atlantis' current location, I could use your attachment to...certain people...to entice either you or them to come to me. To weaken your emotional stability made it easier for me to probe you and find what I needed. Luckily, I didn't need to send any forged distress message myself. You did it for me. The gaze of two lovers is a powerful thing, is it not?"

Sam made a noise in her throat as if to scream at him, but the pain in her side was too much for her to be able to say anything more.

Michael laughed again, thoroughly enjoying his victim's total helplessness. "Now he knows where you are. And he's going to come and get you. And this time, I'm going to get what I want."

Sam was powerless to say anything as he cackled yet again and spun around on his heel to pound away down the hall, his feet once again drumming a despairing funeral dirge.

She needed to warn _him_. But she didn't know if she could do it with Michael constantly watching her like a vulture eyeing its dying prey. But if she didn't...

If only she was strong enough to do something other than lie on the cold floor, helpless and unable to move, bleeding and possibly living the last few moments of her life.

_Rodney...don't come. Not yet. Please._

Little did she know that her plea had come too late.


End file.
